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Stay for the Night, Or Maybe a Bite

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Keonhee is used to weird people coming into the Party City. Most customers are moms of young kids, the occasional single dad, sometimes college kids planning a lame-ass party, but there is always the occasional broke cosplayer. Sometimes a LARPer who hasn’t left their persona outside and speaks to him like he’s working at a Ren Faire and not at a concrete cube with fluorescent lights.


Keonhee is used to a lot, he is the shift supervisor, but the guy who’s standing in front of him at the counter certainly takes the cake. He’s dressed in a long velvet coat, the fabric somehow seeming to change from violet to black depending on how he stands. He’s also in a high collared shirt and a waist-coat, a waist-coat, embellished with pearls and jewels that look too nice to be fake. His trousers are tucked into buttoned boots with a low heel, and his hair hangs in loose waves down to his chin. Keonhee can’t see his eyes because he wears sunglasses that look like they’re out of a Tim Burton movie. The guy looks like he walked off of the sets of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and Sleepy Hollow combined.


“I’m sorry,” Keonhee says, rubbing his eyes tiredly. They’re ten minutes to closing and it's quite possible he’s hallucinating. “What did you say?”


“My apologies,” the man says, and then he raises his voice to a near shout. “I was not aware you were hard of hearing! I am looking for–“


“I’m not – you don’t have to shout, I can hear you just fine.”


The man raises an eyebrow, thick and perfect over the white frame of his stupid sunglasses. Keonhee sighs.


“Just…tell me what you want again?”


“I do not know what they are called, but they are like eggs.”


“Uh-huh. You know, it’s October, right? Our Easter merch doesn’t come in until, like, March.”


The man hisses, holding up one gloved hand to his chest like he’s imitating the meme of clutching his pearls. Keonhee holds back a snort.


“They are not–“ The man pauses. Shakes his head. “They are made of jade typically. They go into the anal orifice.”


The smile that had been tugging at Keonhee’s lips immediately drops. He stares at the man. Blinks. 


“Excuse me?”


“Butt eggs,” the man says. “They are meant for prostate stimulation. Jade is preferable, but honestly they can be made of anything. Except silver, because ouch.”


The man flashes a smile, and Keonhee swears that there are two fangs poking out of the top of his gums. Keonhee tries to smile back, but his face feels broken, mouth lopsided.


“Yeah…” Keonhee says. “Ouch.”


“Exactly.” The man leans one arm on the counter like it’s a bar and Keonhee takes an instinctive step back. “So…Keonhee.” His name rolls off of the man’s tongue in a way that makes Keonhee shiver involuntarily, and he covers his name tag with one hand for no purpose at all. “Can you help me out?”


“With your butt eggs?” Keonhee’s voice comes out too loud, high-pitched and near hysterical. Across the store Seoho looks up from where he’s stocking plastic tombstones and raises an eyebrow. Keonhee shakes his head sharply.


“Yes,” the man says. “I’m really not picky with what they are made out of. And once the eggs are out of the way, there is harness that applies delicious pressure on your–“


“Woah, woah, woah!” Keonhee shouts, just barely resisting smacking his hand over the man’s mouth. His entire body feels hot and he knows that his cheeks are bright red with embarrassment. “Look, I don’t know why you decided to come here–“


“Youngjo,” the man supplies unhelpfully. “You can call me Youngjo.”


“Right,” Keonhee says. He takes in a sharp breath through his teeth. “As I was saying, Youngjo, this is a Party City.”


Youngjo’s smile is frozen on his face. Keonhee is sure that behind his sunglasses his eyes are blank in confusion.


“I am aware,” Youngjo says, straightening. “I am throwing a party.”


“What kind of party?”


“Oh, it’s this fantastic orgy,” Youngjo says brightly, clapping his hands together. “We have it once a year, and normally it’s such a pain because I have to travel, but this year I’m hosting. We’ve got most everything: the fuck machines and the –“


“Okay,” Keonhee interrupts. His chest feels tight. He might be wheezing. He should find his inhaler because the room looks a little fuzzy around the edges. “Um. Wow.”


“I know,” Youngjo says solemnly. “It’s a big responsibility.”


“Yeah.” Keonhee glances at the clock behind him. Five minutes until closing. Jesus. “Um, look, we don’t – you’re not going to find that stuff here.”


Youngjo’s brows furrow underneath the large lenses of his sunglasses. There is a deep crease in his forehead.


“Why not?”


“Because this is a Party City!” Keonhee makes sure to hit each syllable of the name. “We do, like, children’s birthday parties! Not whatever weird cosplay sex party you’re throwing!”


Keonhee doesn’t realize he’s thrown his hands in the air for emphasis until he drops them, slamming his hands on the edge of the counter. He catches on the box cutter that he stupidly left open, and he curses as it slices his finger. He automatically shoves his finger in his mouth, trying to remember the last time he got a tetanus shot as his tongue soothes the cut. He doesn’t realize Youngjo is staring at him until he speaks.


“Huh,” Youngjo says, but his voice is different, a little deeper and syrupy slow, like he’s drawing out the words. “Are you a virgin?”


Keonhee is too shocked to answer right away. His mouth drops open and blood and spit oozes down his chin. Youngjo twitches, a quick movement that reminds Keonhee of a dog locking in on a scent. Another shiver runs down his spine, this time because of an unnameable fear.


“You are,” Youngjo murmurs, lips curling around his words. And oh, his lips look really soft. Keonhee wasn’t paying attention before, but he’s paying attention now. Youngjo’s lips are big and pouty and a sort of purplish-blue color that Keonhee suddenly and desperately wants to kiss to a shade of pink.


Youngjo’s lips quirk up into an alluring smile, sharp fangs gleaming under the fluorescent lights. Keonhee leans forward, drool still dripping down his chin, but right before his lips meet Youngjo’s, the man pulls away. Keonhee stumbles in place, hands once again scrambling at the counter to keep himself upright. He blinks rapidly; the lights are suddenly too bright and his head aches more than his finger does.


Youngjo slides a card across the counter with the tip of a gloved finger. It’s black and embossed with red writing. Keonhee has to squint to make out the lettering, but it looks like an address.


“If you’re interested, you should come to my party tomorrow night,” Youngjo murmurs, his voice so low that Keonhee can feel it in the soles of his feet. “Maybe we can pop that cherry of yours.”


And with a dramatic flourish of his coat, Youngjo steps out of the automatic sliding doors without even a look over his shoulder. 

“So…what was all that?” Seoho asks, launching himself onto the counter after he locks the front door. Keonhee is busy smearing antibacterial goop onto his finger and trying to get the bandage to stick even though his whole finger is wet and oozing. Keonhee grumbles and holds out an unopened bandage. Seoho rolls his eyes but opens it and carefully wraps Keonhee’s finger.


“Some weirdo,” Keonhee mumbles. He swipes the papers and failed bandage off of the counter and into his palm to throw away. He hovers over the business card, tempted, but then he leaves it. Seoho picks it up.


“He gave you his address?”


“He invited me to his sex party.”


Seoho’s eyebrows shoot up to his forehead. “No way, really? Good for you.”


Keonhee snorts and shakes his head, but he takes the business card when Seoho holds it out to him.


“So are you gonna go?”


“Obviously not.”


“Why not?”


Keonhee sputters by way of explanation. He can feel heat rising up his neck and across his cheekbones, and the more he tries to explain why going to a sex party with a bunch of waist-coat wearing weirdos is probably a bad idea, the more tongue-tied he gets. Seoho just sits there, arms folded over his chest and an amused smile on his face. 


“And he knew I was a virgin!” Keonhee finishes with a wail. “How weird is that?”


Seoho shrugs. “I mean, it’s kind of obvious.”


Keonhee smacks at Seoho with his bad hand and then whines at the impact. His finger throbs and he presses it to his lips as if that will make it feel better.


“I say you go for it,” Seoho continues, hopping off of the counter and flipping the breakers so that only the safety lights are on. The back of the store goes dark and it makes Keonhee shiver involuntarily. He pulls on his hoodie and follows Seoho towards the employee exit. “Pop your cherry. Have an experience.”


“Do you want to come?”


“I wasn’t invited.”


“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind two virgins showing up instead of just one.”


Seoho snorts out a laugh.


“Maybe,” he says. “But I’m cripplingly shy, and you’d abandon me for Willy Wonka as soon as we got there.”


Keonhee groans and covers his face with his hands. “He did look like Willy Wonka, didn’t he? I can’t believe I’m considering losing my virginity to a Johnny Depp wannabe.”




Youngjo’s house is a three story Victorian style mansion. Its attic window is made of stained glass, and the sagging front porch is decorated with a mismatch of Halloween lights and orange and black tinsel. The front lawn is decorated with tombstones that look high-end, definitely more realistic than the plastic ones they sell at Party City. 


It makes sense that Youngjo is loaded, Keonhee thinks as he walks up the creaking steps, clutching a container of cupcakes to his stomach. Only rich people would dress so ridiculously and not know where to buy sex toys for their orgy party.


Keonhee can hear music inside, some eclectic mix of zithers and drums and flutes and other instruments that Keonhee can’t quite distinguish. It is a far cry from the house music he’d been anticipating; it sounds more like a blend of street fairs and carnivals. The door opens just as he’s raising his hand to knock, and he is immediately hit with a barrage of smells: roses and orange peel and iron and sweat.


“Oh,” the man in front of him coos, dragging his eyes down the length of Keonhee’s body. “What’s a pretty virgin doing on my doorstep?”


The man is shorter than Keonhee, his blonde hair styled effortlessly off of his forehead. His eyes are sharp and predatory, and he wears a white satin shirt cut into a vee so deep that Keonhee can see his belly button. His trousers seem to sparkle under the string lights on the porch, and they tightly hug his toned thighs and calves. Keonhee clutches his cupcakes harder.


“Um, hi,” he says. “Youngjo invited me?”


The man’s mouth drops open into an ‘ah’ of understanding, and then he grabs Keonhee’s wrist and pulls him inside. His grip is shockingly strong and his long nails bite into his skin.


“Youngjo!” the man shouts. “You didn’t tell me that you were having virgins delivered!”


Keonhee’s cheeks flame, and the heat spreads all the way down to his stomach when he realizes that there are so many people staring at him. It’s the front hall but it’s crowded with people in various states of undress, limbs bent in ways that Keonhee can’t imagine doing himself. There is a woman who is staring at him while someone is in between her legs being fucked with a dildo by a man who also stares at Keonhee. There are fingers and cocks and tongues and toys and eyes, so many eyes.


“Hwanwoong,” a familiar voice says, and Keonhee meets Youngjo’s gaze over Hwanwoong’s head. He’s no longer dressed like Willy Wonka; instead he’s in a long embroidered robe, the dark blue fabric rippling like it’s made of water. He doesn’t wear sunglasses either, and Keonhee finds it hard to look away from his wide crimson eyes.


“He is my guest,” Youngjo says, and Hwanwoong’s grip immediately loosens on Keonhee’s wrist. 


“Will you be sharing?” Hwanwoong asks. His grip tightens again, but then he releases Keonhee completely. There is a string of crescent-shaped indents on his skin.


“Perhaps.” Youngjo cups Hwanwoong’s face, long fingers tracing along Hwanwoong’s cheekbone and down his neck. “I wasn’t aware you’d be coming down. Dongju said you locked yourself away when he told you that your porn was boring.”


Hwanwoong rolls his eyes dramatically and slaps Youngjo’s hand away. “Dongju has no taste.”


“Well he married you.”


Ha. Ha.” Hwanwoong looks at Keonhee again, his eyes once again dragging down his body. Then he sighs. “Well you’ve certainly snagged a cutie. Have fun with him.”


“Of course.” Youngjo holds out his hand and Keonhee automatically takes it. Youngjo’s hand is cool and smooth to the touch, making Keonhee keenly aware of how his own hand is clammy and covered in small cuts from the boxes and sharp plastic edges of merch he has to unpack on a daily basis. 


“I’m glad you could make it,” Youngjo says, leading Keonhee through room after room of writhing bodies and symphonies of moans. “What’s in the box?”


“Oh,” Keonhee says. “Cupcakes.”


Youngjo smiles, something soft and a little predatory. Keonhee’s insides go quivery at the sight of it. They pause at the doorway to a room that is filled with so many bodies Keonhee can’t tell where one ends and one begins. He catches glimpses – a breast, a bare ass, someone’s cock – but mostly it is limbs. So many limbs. In the corner of the room a man stands on a ladder with a megaphone calmly describing everything that is happening. He’s dressed normally, in jeans and a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the elbows. His blonde hair is kept out of his face by two small braids, but occasionally he still attempts to run his hands through his hair, messing up the careful styling. It’s…odd. Keonhee can officially say he’s never even thought of sex in this way, and he’s embarrassed to find that despite his shock and bewilderment he’s also starting to get hard.


Keonhee doesn’t realize there is another person in the doorway with them until Youngjo speaks to him.


“Dongju,” Youngjo says softly. “Have you fucked anyone yet?”


Dongju might be the most beautiful person Keonhee has seen yet. Everyone is extraordinarily hot – even Youngjo, now that he’s not dressed like a Roald Dahl character, but Dongju takes the cake. He is ethereally beautiful, skin so pale and blemish free it seems to glow in the lamp light. His eyes are large with long lashes, and his face is framed by flowing black hair that cascades down his back. He is wearing a…robe? Dress? It is deep red and embroidered with delicate white butterflies. He has such a regal air about him that Keonhee is almost tempted to bow in reverence.


“I’m just making sure the party is going smoothly,” Dongju says, his voice surprisingly deep.


“Love, everyone is on their second orgasm at least,” Youngjo says, tucking a strand of hair behind Dongju’s ear. “The party is going wonderfully. You should enjoy yourself.”


Dongju sighs and looks back into the room. A woman is being held up in the center of the circle and a man is licking his way up her stomach, over her breasts and to her throat. There is a flash of teeth and then a torrent of red before she is consumed by the mass of bodies. Keonhee’s stomach lurches.


“Hwanwoong came downstairs,” Youngjo says, a conspiratorial tone in his voice. Dongju snorts.


“So he finally decided to pull his head out of his ass?” The words are harsh, but there is a fond smile tugging at Dongju’s perfect lips. Keonhee remembers the encounter in the hallway, and it hits him that Dongju is Hwanwoong’s husband.


“Surely the pornography wasn’t that bad.”


“Youngjo,” Dongju says, leveling Youngjo with a bored glare. “There is nothing more draining than watching porn from the 1920s. They don’t even show his cock, which funnily enough, is my favorite thing about him.”


“Not his charming personality?” Youngjo teases with an ease that makes the conversation feel like one that has been had on more than one occasion.


“You could always make your own,” Keonhee pipes up, then blushes when they both stare at him with a focused gaze that he can’t decipher. “Porn I mean. Just…film it on your phone.”


Keonhee may be a virgin, but he is no stranger to porn. And as weird as Seoho finds it, Keonhee actually likes the home videos that couples make and post on the internet. It feels more…intimate than studio porn. Keonhee likes that.


“Who is this scrumptious thing?” Dongju asks instead of acknowledging what Keonhee has said. Youngjo steps aside, letting Dongju overwhelm Keonhee’s space. He smells like cinnamon and the coals leftover from a fire pit. Keonhee swallows.


“I – uh, I work at the Party City,” Keonhee stammers. Dongju gasps, smile widening enough that he can see the two sharp fangs protruding from his gums.


“Oh, you provided our decorations,” he coos, trailing his fingers down Keonhee’s cheek and neck. He leans in, breath hot against the sensitive spot under his ear, and Keonhee shivers at the sensation as much as Dongju’s hand still trailing down, down, until he cups his bulge through his jeans. Keonhee gasps and drops the cupcakes.


“He’s so sensitive,” Dongju says, an off-handed comment that seems to be meant for Youngjo by the way he nods. Keonhee feels the wet hot sensation of a tongue licking along his neck and then a sharp nip of teeth at his ear. Keonhee groans, but the sound is quickly muffled by Dongju’s mouth fitting over his. He sucks on Keonhee’s tongue, hard, and then there is a pinprick of pain. Keonhee thinks he can taste blood, but as soon as he places the iron tang, Dongju is pulling away and Keonhee’s mouth tastes…well, normal. 


“Oh, I love when virgins are extra ripe,” Dongju sighs contentedly. His eyes are heavy lidded and there’s a red sheen on his lips, like smeared gloss. Keonhee feels a little light headed, a little turned on, and very confused. His knees buckle, but Youngjo is quick to catch him with a strong arm around his waist. Dongju laughs and shakes his head.


“Save some for me,” he says with a wink.


“Will do.”


“Geonhak!” Dongju shouts into the room, and the blond man with the megaphone stops his narration (and Lucien has both of his dicks in Constantin, wow, impressive, color me impressed). “I need your fancy computer phone.”


Geonhak smiles and pulls a phone out of his back pocket, tossing it to Dongju with an underhand throw that is clearly routine. Dongju blows a kiss and Geonhak pretends to catch it, then he presses his palm to his cheek. It’s disgustingly cute even though Keonhee knows that Dongju is married.


“I’m going to film myself fucking Hwanwoong,” Dongju announces loudly, and a few cheers rise from the mass of bodies on the floor. “Geonhak, feel free to join us.”


“I will when I’m done,” Geonhak says, his voice also startlingly deep. “I think we’re getting close.”


“Definitely close!” a voice shouts from the pile, and the resulting laughter dissolves into a cacophony of moans as they begin to move again. Geonhak picks up his narration (Afranaas is now sitting on Constantin’s face, go on ride it, take what you want) and Dongju sweeps out of the room with a flourish and a blown kiss. Keonhee feels like he might pass out.


“Let’s sit you down,” Youngjo says, clearly amused. “You look like you’re going to faint.”


“Fuck off,” Keonhee snaps, but his voice is an octave higher than it normally is and that just makes Youngjo outright laugh.


Youngjo leads him into what looks like a living room; it’s filled with plush sofas and chaises and armchairs that look older than the house. Unlike the other rooms where there seemed to be masses of bodies connected together in some way, this room seemed to be specifically for couplings. It’s less overwhelming, Keonhee finds, to be able to tell one person apart from the other as they kiss or fuck on the various surfaces of the room. 


“Better?” Youngjo asks softly, flopping next to Keonhee on the overstuffed couch in the corner of the room. Keonhee rolls his eyes. He doesn’t realize that he’s touching his lips, absently rubbing his fingers along the bottom one, until Youngjo gently takes his hand in his. 


“Did he nip at you?” Youngjo asks, and Keonhee nods before he can think better of it. He doesn’t want Youngjo to think he’s a baby, to think that he’s so pathetically inexperienced that he can’t handle some rough kissing. Youngjo just pats his hand gently with a fond sort of smile. 


“Can I ask something?” Keonhee asks, shifting but not pulling his hand out of Youngjo’s grip.


“Of course.”


“Everyone...everyone knows that I’m a virgin,” he says, folding in on himself like his hoodie is a turtle shell that he can retreat into. “But I don’t think you told them.”


“I didn’t.”


“So how did they know? Is it that obvious?”


Youngjo laughs and Keonhee is filled with an urge to both smack him and kiss him. This seems to be a constant state around Youngjo, this desire to fight and also give in. 


“Darling,” Youngjo says, lifting Keonhee’s hand to his lips. “We can smell it on you.”


Keonhee isn’t sure what face he makes, but he’s sure it isn’t funny enough for Youngjo to laugh so hard at him. His cheeks get hot and he tries to tug his hand away, but Youngjo simply tightens his grip. It reminds Keonhee of Hwanwoong, of the surprising strength that he has even though it doesn’t feel like he’s trying to exert any force at all.


Youngjo gently pushes the sleeve of Keonhee’s hoodie up his forearm. He runs his fingers gently from the inside of his elbow to his wrist, following the prominent line of veins. 


“May I?” he asks, and Keonhee nods even though he really has no idea what Youngjo is asking. Youngjo smiles, showing a quick flash of fangs, and then he presses his lips against the middle of Keonhee’s forearm. They’re surprisingly cold, not like the warm of Seoho’s lips when he sometimes presses kisses to the back of Keonhee’s neck (because he can’t give any affection when someone might be looking at him). Youngjo glances up at him through his dark lashes, and then he smiles, showing off his sharp fangs. Keonhee watches in open-mouthed horror as Youngjo bites into him, fangs piercing flesh, but as quickly as the pain comes it dissipates, transforming into something warm and pleasant. It feels sinking into a hot bath, the slightly tingly sensation of freezing toes steadily warming.


Youngjo removes his teeth from Keonhee’s arm, and Keonhee watches as he holds up a flask towards one of the puncture wounds, his thumb expertly covering the other one. Keonhee’s blood spurts out in a pulsing arc, landing perfectly inside of the flask. In the back of his mind Keonhee knows that spurting blood like this is not normal, that it likely means he’s dying, but he can’t bring himself to care. 


Youngjo caps the flask and then licks over the two holes in his arm. The skin stitches up, little fibers patching themselves together like Keonhee is nothing more than a worn pair of jeans. Keonhee blinks– his eyelids feel so heavy – and when he opens his eyes again his arm is good as new, not even a scar to show where he’d been bitten.


“Do you understand now?” Youngjo murmurs against his ear. Keonehe swears that he can feel the vibrations of his voice in his ribcage.


“You’re vampires,” Keonhee whispers. Youngjo chuckles.




Youngjo carefully places the flask onto the coffee table, and with a flash of his teeth at the other vampires in the room it becomes clear that no one is to touch it. Youngjo looks back at Keonhee with a small smile and a shrug of his shoulders.


“Hwanwoong and Dongju will want to take shots later.”




“You’re very sweet. They’ll probably get drunk off of you.”


“Hm.” Keonhee blinks heavily. He kind of likes the idea of being a novelty snack, but maybe that’s a side effect of being bitten. “How long have they been together?”


Youngjo hums. “Three centuries I think?”


“And you’ve never married?”


“Oh, I’ve married.” Youngjo gently tugs at the collar of Keonhee’s hoodie and kisses along his neck. His lips are warm now, beyond warm, they burn to the touch, little scorch marks all the way up to Keonhee’s ear.


“Can I have you?” Youngjo whispers, and Keonhee full body shivers. For some reason all of his senses seem heightened. The slight hard-on he had once he entered the house has only gotten worse – better? – and now it’s straining at the zipper of his jeans. 


“You’re not gonna–” Youngjo scrapes his teeth along his neck and Keonhee’s words break off into a moan. “You’re not gonna eat me, right?”


“Only in the purely sexual meaning of the word,” Youngjo says, pulling back and flashing a coy smile. “If you’re alright with that?”


“I am.”


Perhaps he should be putting up more of a fight, playing hard to get, or at least thinking about what it means to lose his virginity in the middle of a living room where other people are also getting fucked, but he’s too focused on the feeling of Youngjo’s fingers slipping underneath the hem of his shirt. Youngjo smiles and then he’s kissing Keonhee, hot and heavy, all tongue and teeth. It’s wet and warm and Keonhee groans into Youngjo’s mouth, clutching at his hair, at the cool silk of his robe, at anything and everything he can get a hold of. 


Youngjo feels like he’s everywhere all at once; tongue in Keonhee’s mouth and down his neck, fingers on his stomach and at the zipper of his jeans, tugging and biting and pulling until Keonhee is completely naked on the sofa.


It feels so sudden, like magic, like Keonhee blinked and his clothes ended up in a folded pile on the small coffee table. Perhaps it is magic. Keonhee doesn’t know how vampires work. Until five minutes ago he thought they only existed in cheesy blockbuster movies and gothic novels. And, if he was being really honest with himself, had he not been so horny he’d absolutely be pissing himself in fear.


But Youngjo is nice and his hands are soft and there’s a tingling buzz beneath Keonhee’s skin. He can feel it from the tips of his fingers to his toes, can feel it under his tongue and at the ends of his eyelashes. He doesn’t even mind the occasional crimson-eyed look from others in the room; pleasure rolls through him in waves, and every bit of attention makes his cock jump, smearing precum along the flat planes of his stomach.


“You’re very pretty,” Youngjo murmurs, his head between Keonhee’s legs, and Keonhee’s whole body flushes with a pleased sort of embarrassment. Youngjo grins into the kiss he presses against Keonhee’s knee, this annoying self-satisfied smirk that means he knows how much Keonhee enjoys the compliment. He runs his nails along Keonhee’s thighs, bright red lines marking his skin, and then he pushes his legs up so that Keonhee’s feet rest on the edge of the couch.


“Hold your legs for me?”


Keonhee wraps his arms under his knees, holding his legs up and out of the way. It feels too vulnerable, exposing himself like this. He can feel his ass clenching and unclenching, and fuck, maybe this was a stupid idea. He feels idiotic with his balls out and his ass on display. He can feel the gazes of others watching him, so many eyes in different shades of red focusing on his splotchy flushed skin and his lanky limbs.


"Youngjo—" he starts, and doesn't get to finish because the man in question licks deep between his cheeks, wet and hot, and anything Keonhee might have said is lost to a strangled moan. Distantly, he's grateful that he took the 'orgy' part of the invitation seriously and showered more thoroughly than usual, even if he couldn't possibly have anticipated this.


Youngjo eats ass with the kind of hedonistic exuberance that Keonhee only reserves for particularly good dessert. Keonhee's excruciatingly aware of how loud they're being, but Youngjo doesn't seem to be at all embarrassed by the noises he's making, the obscene slurping and sucking as he learns exactly what makes Keonhee whine and shake the hardest.


"Gorgeous," Youngjo murmurs, pulling back just enough that Keonhee catches the shine of spit dripping down his chin, lips tinted pink and tinged with a bruise-purple. Keonhee nearly coughs trying to draw air into his lungs, stuttering at the feeling of fingers circling his sensitive rim.


"I could do this forever," Youngjo continues, bending between each word to press kisses where his fingers have just been. "Would you like that?"


"I... what? Yeah." Keonhee's head swims. "Wait, no, I—"


Youngjo pauses, breath cool on Keonhee's perineum. Keonhee's dick twitches.




Keonhee groans. "You're being unfair."


Youngjo laughs, and Keonhee feels the flush on his cheeks darken. He has the sudden impulse to close his legs, but the feeling isn't all bad, especially when Youngjo starts sucking kisses into his thigh with a little more teeth than before, ensuring he'll go home with a line of bruises.


"How am I being unfair, darling?"


"I can't think," Keonhee says, though it's a weak expression of how completely addled he feels.


"That's how you know the sex is good." Youngjo's grin softens. "Do you want to stop? No shame at all, I promise, we can simply—"


"Oh my god, why are you so nice?" Keonhee lets his head loll back to rest on the uncomfortably ornate back of the couch. "Just fuck me, already."


"As you wish." Youngjo presses a reverent little kiss to the tip of Keonhee's dick. Keonhee wants to ask if Youngjo's doing a Princess Bride bit on purpose, but given everything he now knows, he's nearly a hundred percent sure Youngjo would give him a blank stare, and that's somehow worse; so he keeps his mouth firmly shut.


“I’m going to bite you again,” Youngjo says, running his hands over Keonhee’s hips, sliding through the sticky mess accumulating on his stomach.  “It will relax you.”


“That’s… a nice perk,” Keonhee breathes, though he wonders if it might be counterproductive because the mere thought has him tenser than he’s been since they started, just waiting for the flash of pain.


"Truly, it's for weakening prey," Youngjo says absently, turning back to the coffee table where a beautifully crafted wooden tray sits, holding a varied selection of lubes. His hand hovers over one of the many bottles for a moment before selecting one and turning back around. Taking in Keonhee's horrified expression, he quickly adds, "you're not prey, of course, you're my guest!"


"Oh, okay, thanks," Keonhee replies. It's meant to sound sarcastic but it comes out painfully breathless, based on the way Youngjo beams at him.


"You're doing wonderfully, darling," he says, bending to kiss at the bruises that line Keonhee's thigh, over the crease of his hip, ending in a long lick over his cock that makes Keonhee jolt and whine. "I've got you."


This time, when Youngjo sinks his teeth deep into Keonhee's soft inner thigh, he's expecting the warmth that radiates outward. Youngjo licks over the bite almost immediately to close it, but whatever causes the effect is already in his system, sending gentle pleasure through him in waves. He's so caught up in it, he almost doesn't notice two lubed-up fingers slipping into him until they're seated all the way inside.


"Perfect," Youngjo murmurs. "Opened up so easily for me."


The words go right to Keonhee's head and he almost loses his hold on his legs; his fingers are beginning to cramp up from gripping at his own thighs for so long, but it's worth it for the way Youngjo's able to curl his fingers at just the right angle, forcing a pitiful cry out of Keonhee's chest.


He can feel the eyes of others in the room on his skin; it's still scary, but it's become exciting, too, in a way. He doesn't know why, but part of him likes knowing that a stranger might see him, and want him, but can't have him. If someone had told him yesterday that within twenty-four hours, not only would he no longer be a virgin, but he'd also be a fully-awoken exhibitionist, he would have laughed in their face, and yet, here he is.


He shudders impatiently as Youngjo curls and thrusts his fingers at a glacial pace. Pleasure rolls through him in slow, unsatisfying waves, making him twist and squirm in an attempt to bear down harder, move faster, get more.


"Youngjo, please," he whines. Youngjo just chuckles, bending to lick around his fingers. Keonhee honestly thinks he might die here, and wouldn't that be funny — found dead in a vampire's house, not from blood loss but sexual frustration.


"I've got you, love," Youngjo says, licking his lips, still reddish-pink from blood and so much time spent pressed to Keonhee's warm skin. "Come on, over the table, everyone will want to see you."


Keonhee's skin feels like it pulls too tight, prickling all over with heat. Exhaling with a shudder, he wills his cramping fingers to release his legs and falls to his knees on the carpet, shifting to bend himself over the coffee table. One of Youngjo's hands falls to his waist, the other spreading wide over the small of his back, grounding him.


He's almost grateful that Youngjo doesn't ask him whether he's ready because he's not sure he could answer if he tried. All he can do is bury his face in his arms and try to maintain some dignity as Youngjo slides into him. He thinks that this moment should probably feel bigger, like someone should come give him a ribbon that says Official Ex-Virgin, but all he really feels is sweaty and overwhelmed and good.


"Fuck," Youngjo breathes, sounding more affected than he's been all night.  A tiny bit of pride bursts in Keonhee's chest, knowing that he's responsible for getting Youngjo to sound like that, to lose a tiny bit of control.


Youngjo fucks him slowly, like they have all the time in the world, which might be true to a vampire but feels excruciating for Keonhee's perfectly human body.  He keeps his face buried tight in the crook of his elbow, biting down on his arm to muffle any particularly embarrassing noises (though he doesn't think it's very effective).  The gaze of their audience feels thick on his naked body, leaving no part of him untouched; it makes him all the more sensitive when Youngjo's hands begin roaming.


"You feel so good, darling." Youngjo's voice has gone slightly lower, breathy and a little rough. Keonhee would answer, but all the air he manages to take in seems to get immediately converted to involuntary little whining noises.


He gasps wetly at Youngjo's hand in his hair, forcing his face up and out of the safety of his arms.  It takes a moment for his eyes to adjust, swimming with half-formed tears, but soon the vague shapes of others resolve into hard outlines, fuzzy features becoming gleaming eyes and bloody smirks.


Keonhee tenses when he notices Dongju and Hwanwoong together on one of the large armchairs across the room, tangled together and watching him with twin expressions of hungry amusement. He makes eye contact with Hwanwoong first and the vampire grins, licking his lips in a gesture so exaggeratedly lewd it circles back around to being hot. Dongju's eyes are heavier, more intent, and Keonhee shudders to think what he might want given permission to take it.


"Please," he whispers, breaking into a sobbing moan as Youngjo's next thrust hits him harder than the last, nailing him right where he needs it.


"Please?" Youngjo prompts, fingers trailing down from Keonhee's hair to wrap loosely around his neck, tapping at the place where his pulse flutters rabbit-quick under his skin.  "Darling, who are you asking?  Me... or all of them?"


Keonhee lets out a noise that he'll be mortified by when he remembers it later, scrabbling at the edge of the table for purchase. He can hear the murmur of voices, though he can't make out the words, and he can't stop imagining that they're talking about him.


"Youngjo," he sobs out, and he must sound desperate because Youngjo makes a placating sound, running a cool palm up and down Keonhee's spine.


"Do you want to come?" Youngjo asks, low and coaxing. He's clearly not looking for an answer to such an obvious question, which is good because Keonhee couldn't give one if he wanted to.


Youngjo reaches around and takes Keonhee's dick in his hand, jerking him smoothly, and Keonhee's helpless to do anything but take it as he rides the feeling up and up and up, the burn of a dozen pairs of eyes on him as he curls into himself and cries out and comes sticky and hot all over himself.


Vaguely, he feels Youngjo pull out after a few moments and then turn Keonhee over onto his back. It’s not very comfortable with the edge of the table digging into his spine, but he doesn’t have enough energy in his limbs to really protest beyond a weak whine. Blearily, he watches Youngjo jerk himself until he’s coming all over Keonhee’s stomach, their cum mixing together.


“Beautiful,” Youngjo says, leaning down to kiss Keonhee. He kisses back a full moment too late, reflexes still rebooting after his orgasm. Youngjo chuckles against his lips, something endearing and maybe out of place considering Keonhee is still naked and many bloodthirsty monsters are watching.


When Youngjo pulls away, there are two faces on either side of his shoulders and Keonhee shrieks and flails. The edge of the table digs farther into his spine and he whacks his elbow, sending a zing of pain up to his neck. Laughter fills the room, and to his utter mortification he realizes that Dongju and Hwanwoong are flanking Youngjo, all of them smiling wide enough to show their sharp teeth. Keonhee feels his eyes prickle, but he isn’t sure if it’s delayed fear, the pain in his elbow, or the laughter that’s getting to him.


“Oh sweetheart,” Dongju says, cupping Keonhee’s cheek with his deathly cold hand. “No tears, you were beautiful.”


“Can I lick it up?” Hwanwoong asks, short fingers already tracing through the mess on Keonhee’s stomach. Dongju rolls his eyes, but it’s fond. Keonhee finds he’s envious of them and their multi-century relationship. Just a little bit.


“How did the filming go?” he asks, voice croaking slightly. “For your porno.”


“Geonhak’s computer phone died,” Dongju says. His long fingers catch on his bottom lip, and Keonhee gently darts his tongue out. Dongju hisses at the contact but doesn’t move away; his fingers taste like candied orange peel and copper pennies. 


“Dongju,” Hwanwoong whines, and Dongju’s eyes flash bright red for a moment. “You know how potent virgin cum is. It’s like a delicacy.”


“Just admit you’re a cum-slut, Woong,” Youngjo says from the sofa. He’s seated right in front of them, legs spread and posing like he’s a maid in an ancient erotic portrait. If that sight isn’t enough to get Keonhee riled up again, Hwanwoong dragging his tongue over his abdomen certainly is. His tongue is long, and the way he curls it, lapping up the mess in long, broad strokes, has Keonhee whimpering. He can feel heat spreading in his abdomen and his dick twitches with oversensitivity, but it’s so hot he can’t bear to tell Hwanwoong to stop. (There’s also a thought in the back of his mind that Hwanwoong could literally kill him, but he buries that back down.)


When Hwanwoong is done he licks up Keonhee’s neck and then shoves his tongue into his mouth. It tastes bitter and also has the same copper tinge as everything else. Hwanwoong nips his bottom lip, then turns his head and kisses Dongju. They fall over each other and into each other, rolling over Keonhee until they lay on the floor. They are incredibly beautiful together, and they move with an ease that is enviable.


“You are staring,” Youngjo murmurs, and Keonhee jumps. He realizes, suddenly, how naked he still is, and he closes his knees to shield himself. Youngjo’s eyes get dark, shifting into a deep maroon.


“I thought staring was expected,” he counters, grabbing his hoodie from the table and pulling it over his head. 


“It is,” Youngjo says as Keonhee attempts to drag his jeans over his sticky thighs, “but you’re much prettier to look at.”


Keonhee’s cheeks burn. Now that he’s clothed and the orgasm high is fading, what he’s done is starting to sink in. His fingers tremble as he tries to button his jeans.


“Alright,” Youngjo says, standing suddenly and offering his hand to pull Keonhee up as well. “Time to get you home.”


“You’re naked,” Keonhee says, determinedly not staring at Youngjo’s dick.


“Yes,” Youngjo says with a soft smile. “I am.”


He brushes his lips against Keonhee’s, a chaste thing that has him tipping forward for more. Youngjo presses his cool fingers to Keonhee’s lips instead.


“If by chance you remember any of this in the morning, you’re always welcome to swing by again.”


Keonhee’s brows furrow. “What do you mean if I remember?”


But Youngjo just smiles.




Keonhee wakes with a raging hard-on, dressed in his same jeans and hoodie. He pulls out his phone - eight thirty in the morning - and groans as he shoves the pillow over his face. He can’t believe he dreamt that he lost his virginity to the weirdo Willy Wonka guy. Maybe he needs to download an app, or just beg Seoho to fuck him. Maybe they can both put paper bags over their heads so they don’t have to make eye contact and just do the deed so Keonhee can stop being such an embarrassment.


But the thing is…


When he sits up there is a dull pain in his lower back. And when he looks at his forearm there are two faint dots. And there is a memory…a blend of colors and sensations and…


Keonhee reaches into his pocket and pulls out a thin, black card. It is embossed with red lettering, and when he squints, he can make out an address.


“Oh fuck,” he whispers, turning the card over in his shaking hands. “I got dicked by vampires.”


“Cool,” Seoho drawls from his bed across the room. “Can you tell them to drop you off at the door like normal people next time? I never want to see some freak clawing at the window with you passed out in his arms again.”


“Yeah,” Keonhee says, laying back down. He wonders if going back to the house tonight would be too soon. “Sure.”